Thunderboys
by juho69
Summary: A story from the boys' childhood. Jeff learns the importance of listening.


THUNDERBOYS

**THUNDERBOYS**

**Chapter 1 : Reflections**

Jefferson Tracy sat in front of the computer screen in his office at his home.

Jefferson – or Jeff, as he was always called – was forty-two, medium-to-tall, stocky, with greying hair, thick eyebrows and dark blue eyes. He and his family lived in a four-bedroom, detached house in the west of the United States of America. For the last two years, Jeff had run his own civil and construction engineering company, and it was beginning to make more than a tidy profit.

He had not always been an engineer. He had been a colonel in the US Air Force, before transferring to the Space Agency and becoming an astronaut. He was honoured to have been chosen as one of the first astronauts to land on the Moon soon after it had been colonised. But then, his life had changed – as he could never have imagined.

It was in 2035 that he had first met his future wife, and nothing would ever be the same again. He had often wondered what Lucille had seen in him. As far as he himself had been concerned, he had, quite simply, fallen head-over-heels in love with her the first time he had seen her. He had always thought of himself as the curmudgeonly type so the depth of his feelings had quite surprised him. To his delight, they had been more than reciprocated and they had been married within the year.

They had had five children, all sons, in quick succession: Scott, John, Virgil, Gordon and Alan. His wife had been very kindly accommodating when it had come to naming the boys and Jeff, reflecting his career, had called them after the first five US astronauts: Scott Carpenter; John Glenn; Virgil Grissom; Gordon Cooper; Alan Shepard. Pleased and proud though he was to have five strong, healthy sons, Jeff had always secretly wished for a daughter. He had hoped that they might have just one more child, to make six, and it would be the girl that he so yearned for – but, after Alan's birth, his wife had said, eerily prophetically – and Jeff could remember it as if it were yesterday –

"No, Jeff. There won't be any more."

She had died five years later, from cancer. Jeff never liked to dwell on that, but to have seen his gentle, beautiful wife suffer, albeit so serenely, the way she did – well, it had been very painful. After she had died, Jeff had abandoned his career as an astronaut and had taken up as an engineer in order to be near his sons. It was tragic enough for the boys to have lost their mother – so it would have been grossly unfair on them to grow up hardly seeing their father either. Of course, Jeff knew that he could never have managed without his mother. Grandma had willingly given up her own life to help him look after his boys and he would be eternally grateful.

Jeff looked up at the shelf above his computer. It always held his favourite photographs of his family. There was one of dear Lucille, of course, and another of their wedding day; one of his parents and several of his sons. Jeff often thought it would be a good idea to invent photographs on a wall which could roll over at the press of a button to reveal different ones. Better still, to have a small album in which the pictures doubled up as pagers for their subjects. Something to invent in the future!

The one which caught his eye at that moment was one of him carrying his two eldest sons at the beach, Scott under his left arm and John under his right, laden with buckets, spades, a toy yacht and a rubber ring round his neck! Jeff shook his head. He looked so much younger….and it had only been six years ago. He could never have guessed what the future held then: that he would be a widower at forty, left alone with five young sons.

Two years on, he still grieved deeply for Lucille – he knew he always would. Nothing and nobody could ever replace her in his life – yet, whenever he looked at his sons, he knew she was always there with him. Scott had her dark colouring and black hair. John and Gordon had her slight, slim build. Virgil had inherited her artistic and musical skills. And lively, cheeky little Alan was most like her in personality. The last thing Jeff did, every night, after praying, was to look at his picture of Lucille on his bedside table. He knew she was looking down on her family from Heaven and that she always would be.

Jeff turned back to the computer screen. He didn't like having to work on Saturdays – he had enough of that during the week – but sometimes needs must. He had one particular, sticky problem, out of which he couldn't seem to find a route. The boys were all dotted around the house, hopefully keeping themselves occupied and out of trouble….

CRASSHHH!!

**Chapter 2 : Reproach**

Jeff jumped up. He dashed across the hall from the living room from where the noise had come and wrenched open the door.

On the floor, shattered in several pieces, lay his wife's pink vase, the one he had given her on their tenth wedding anniversary.

Upset and angry, Jeff looked up and glared hard at his two youngest sons.

"Who did it?"

There was a frightened silence; then, Alan said,

"Gordon did."

Later, Jeff would reflect that, normally, he would never have reacted the way he did, but, that day, probably owing to the niggling work problem, things were different. He saw red. "Gordon!!" He moved across the room, grabbed his fourth son by the shirt and smacked him hard. Gordon shook like a frightened animal; then he ran out of the room.

Jeff watched him go, reproachfully. Then, he turned his gaze to Alan, then to the broken pieces of glass, and shook his head.

"There's nothing we can do about it now."

"No," agreed Alan.

Silently, Jeff picked up the pieces carefully, wrapped them in some newspaper and swept up. He went outside, emptied the dustpan and put the broken pieces into the dustpan.

Another link with his wife gone forever.

By the time he returned indoors, Alan had gone upstairs. Morosely, Jeff returned to his work. He would have to speak to Gordon later but that awkward task could wait.

Ironically, the break had seemed to clear his head and he finished what he had been trying to do within half an hour. He cleared away and switched off the computer. He looked at the clock: ten to one. The boys would be wanting their lunch. Of course, Jeff did not do any cooking; his mother did that but, on Saturdays, she ahd a well-deserved day off and he managed. Something on toast at lunch time and takeaways in the evening.

He laid the dining-room table and went into the kitchen to prepare the lunch. Cheese on toast today, he thought. He got out the bread from the bread-bin, the cheese from the fridge and switched on the toaster.

"Boys! Lunch!"

There was a sound of opening doors, stamping feet and footsteps running down the stairs. One by one, the Tracy boys came into the dining-room and sat at their places at the table. Jeff brought the plates out, gave one to each boy and one to himself. he sat down at the head of the table, ready to say Grace, and looked at his sons. It was then that he realised that there were only four.

"Where's Gordon?"

Scott, John, Virgil and Alan looked around.

"I haven't seen him," replied Scott.

Jeff frowned. "He's probably hiding away somewhere, sulking. Do you know what he did this morning? He broke Mommy's vase."

This was news to all the boys except Alan. "The Wedgwood one?" asked John

Jeff nodded grimly. "Yes. It seemed he was running around the living-room and knocked it over. I wasn't very happy, as you can imagine. But - there's nothing to be done about it now. I hope Gordon's very ashamed of himself."

Virgil frowned. "It's not like Gordon not to own up when he's done something wrong."

"Well, there's a first time for everything. Now - shall we say Grace?"

Halfway through lunch, when Gordon had still not appeared, Jeff asked,

"Scott - would you go and find Gordon and ask him to come down to lunch now, please?"

Scott obeyed. He slid down off his chair and went upstairs. The other boys passed up their plates to their father and he took them out to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, took out the pudding, carried it into the dining-room and put it on the table, smiling. "One of Daddy's specials."

The boys gasped in delight.

It was a huge chocolate blancmange in the shape of a rocket!

So much were they enjoying it and the jelly that went with it that they barely noticed Scott appear at the doorway, a very serious look on his face.

"Dad, Gordon's not upstairs. I checked all the rooms and there's no sign of him anywhere."

**Chapter 3 : Reconnaissance**

The clattering of spoons stopped.

"He must be!" exclaimed Jeff. He moved away from the table. past Scott through the doorway and to the foot of the stairs.

"Gordon! Gordon, come down here this minute!"

There was no answer.

"Scott, check again," Jeff ordered. "He'll be hiding in a closet or under a bed."

Scott didn't think this was very likely but he did as his father asked, looking carefully through every room, his father's, his own, John and Virgil's, Gordon and Alan's and even the bathroom. He considered the loft - but Gordon was far too small to be able to reach the hatch. He returned downstairs and reported his findings. They finished their lunches without speaking and the boys helped Jeff clear away. Then, they all went and sat in the living room. There was an uneasy silence. Something was not right. For the first time, Jeff began to feel worried.

Suddenly, Virgil jumped up. He went upstairs. He came down again looking very unhappy.

"His rucksack has gone. So has his teddy-bear and some of his clothes. I think he must have run away."

"We'll have to call the police," decided Scott.

"No!" contradicted John. "We can't do that without looking for him first."

"I agree with John." Jeff shook his head. "I'm starting to feel this is my fault. Maybe I was too harsh on the boy." he stood up. "I'm going to telephone some of his friends. Scott - you check all the garden - and the sheds and garage. John - you check all the rooms and things downstairs. Virgil - you check upstairs again."

"Yes, Dad."

"By the way - where's Alan?"

"He went in the garden, I think."

"Well, perhaps he can help you." Jeff turned to go. "Come and find me later." He went out.

"Poor Gordon," mused Virgil.

"He did break Mommy's vase," Scott reminded him.

"Yes..." Virgil was thoughtful. He stood up.

"I think I know where Gordon might be."

"Where?" asked Scott and John together.

"I'd rather not say yet. But I'm going to go and look for him. When I've left - could you wait about ten minutes then go and tell Dad where I've gone and why?"

Scott shrugged. "Okay."

Virgil slipped out of the back door and out of the side gate. He turned left and walked quickly down the road, towards where the houses petered out and there was a school playing field, woods and a footpath. Virgil carried on till the end of the road where there was a bar and a big horse chestnut tree, where they always went to pick up conkers in the fall. There was a triangle in the centre of the road and Virgil used this to cross over.

On the other side of the road, there were many more fields, leading across a nature trail and finally a river. There was a children's play area, with swings, a roundabout and two diamond-shaped climbing frames, one yellow and one red. The Tracy boys were sometimes been taken to play there on Saturday afternoons. The river came into sight as Virgil walked on. That day, it looked calm enough - but it could get very high and rushing in the winter. With a sudden of stab of fear, Virgil remembered that, three years ago, a small boy had drowned in the river whilst playing nearby with his brother. Today was a fine day, but...

He scanned the riverbank on both sides and, after a minute or so, caught sight of what he had been seeking. A copper head was visible along the bank, about a quarter of a mile further down. Overwhelmed with relief, Virgil cantered down the slope towards his younger brother.

Gordon was sitting, pulling clumps of grass out with his hands. He looked up at the sound of footsteps. When he saw his elder brother, he started and looked frightened.

"It's all right. I'm on my own," Virgil reassured. He sat down next to his little brother. "Are you okay? We were worried about you. We couldn't find you."

"I've run away," snapped Gordon.

"I guessed," answered Virgil. "Your rucksack and some of your things were missing. And so was Sammy. I know you never go anywhere without Sammy."

Gordon shrugged.

"It's all right," Virgil continued. "No-one knows we're here. I told Scott and John that I'd gone to look for you but I didn't say where I was going."

Gordon shrugged again. "Don't care."

"Don't you want to come home?" Virgil asked.

"NO."

"Why not?"

"I hate Daddy. And I hate Alan."

Virgil was genuinely shocked. "Gordon! You mustn't say things like that. You shouldn't hate anyone." Gordon didn't reply. "And, anyway, you can't blame Dad for being so cross with you. You were very naughty. You did break Mommy's vase."

Gordon covered his face with his hands. It took Virgil a few seconds before he realised Gordon was crying, quietly. He began to feel sorry for his younger brotrher.

He put his hand on his shoulder. "Don't cry," he said kindly. "Daddy's cross now - but if you say sorry to him, he'll soon forgive you."

Gordon hid his small face in his arms and began to cry more. "Daddy doesn't love me, Daddy doesn't want me. He loves Alan much more than me. It's always Alan who sits on his lap at story-time, always Alan who tells him what he's been doing. Daddy never listens to me! And he never believes me either, he always believes Alan!" Gordon was crying hard now. Virgil was very concerned at his younger brother's distress. He put his hand on Gordon's shoulder comfortingly.

Gordon shook his head in frustration. "I didn't do it, Virgil."

"Didn't do what?"

"I didn't break Mommy's vase. Alan did."

**Chapter 4 : Revelations**

Virgil and Gordon sat side-by-side on the bank of the river. Virgil had his arms around Gordon and was holding him close. Gordon was wiping his face with Virgil's handkerchief.

"What happened, then?" Virgil asked gently.

"Alan and I were in the lounge. I was reading but Alan wanted to play. He grabbed my book out of my hands and ran off with it. i tried to get it back but I couldn't catch him. He turned round and stuck out his tongue at me but he wasn't looking where he was going and crashed into the cabinet. Mommy's vase fell off and broke. I bent down to pick up my book - and, just at that moment, Daddy came in. He asked who'd done it - and Alan pointed at me and said I did! I wanted to tell Daddy the truth, I really did - but I just couldn't say anything. Daddy smacked me hard - it really hurt - and I ran upstairs and hid in my room."

Virgil digested this in silence. Poor, poor Gordon, he thought. How unfair. But, he felt angry, too. Angry with Alan - but, also at their father for not listening to Gordon.

The two brothers sat quietly.

"It's nice here," Gordon commented.

"Yes," Virgil agreed.

"Mommy used to bring us here. We used to walk along the riverbank and then play hide-and-seek in the woods. The Big Tree's still there! That's where I've hidden my things."

"You learned to walk here, didn't you?"

"Yes..." Gordon suddenly went quiet again. A few tears ran down his little face. "I wish Mommy hadn't died! She'd have believed me. She loved me."

"I love you," said Virgil, honestly. "I love being with you and playing with you. You're my best brother, Gordon. I want you to come home."

"Yes.." Gordon said, after a pause.

"So does John. He's teaching you to play chess, isn't he?"

"Yes.."

"And Scott's always kind to you - and he's the eldest."

"Yes." Gordon seemed placated, but then he frowned again.

"Alan doesn't, though. Nor does Daddy. If he did, he would have listened to me!"

Virgil could see what Gordon meant. "But he's very worried about you now. And I'm sure he'd listen to you if you tell him what really happened. Come home with me now and we'll talk to him - "

"No, Virgil!" Gordon pulled away from his brother and sat up stubbornly. "Unless Daddy says he's sorry to me, I'm never coming home!" His brown eyes looked fiercely at his brother.

Virgil knew he couldn't win over with Gordon like that. But, he loved his younger brother very much. Gordon had been treated unfairly and he wasn't having that. He would have to stick out his neck for him.

"I'm going to go home and talk to Dad," Virgil declared. "I'm going to tell him everything you've told me. Even if I get into trouble for it."

Gordon's little face lit up. "Will you really?"

"Yes," said Virgil firmly. "You've been treated unfairly, Gordon. No-one hurts my little brother and gets away with it." He put his arms around Gordon and hugged him. After a few minutes, Virgil said, "I'd better go now."

Gordon looked worried. "Promise you'll come back?"

"Yes, I promise," answered Virgil. He kissed the top of his brother's copper head. "You take care. I'll be back soon."

**Chapter 6 : Repercussions**

Virgil walked slowly back up the path to the side door. He felt very mixed up inside. He was glad that he had found gordon and that he was unharmed - but, the thought of having to tell his father what Gordon had said troubled him.

He pushed open the side door and went in, shutting the door behind him. Almost at once, his family appeared.

"Have you found Gordon?"

"Where is he? Is he okay?"

"Yes, where is he?" Jeff strode forward and looked down with concern at his third son.

Virgil took a deep breath.

"Yes, I found him. He's fine."

"Where is he?" asked Jeff, Scott and John together.

"I can't say." Virgil looked uncomfortable. He looked straight at his father. "Dad - I need to talk to you."

"Sure thing, son." Jeff looked relieved but puzzled. He led Virgil into the dining-room and they sat down at the table.

"Well - what do you want to tell me?"

Virgil hesitated. This was going to be difficult.

"I found Gordon down by the river. Where we used to go walking with Mommy. He's hidden his things in the Big Tree. He's very upset, Dad."

"Well, so he should be."

Virgil shook his head. "Gordon says he didn't do it."

"Do what?"

"Break the vase. He didn't break Mommy's vase."

Jeff looked puzzled.

"Well - who did, then?"

"Gordon says Alan did."

"No! - " Jeff sat back in his chair. "I can't believe that!"

"But, Dad - did you actually SEE Gordon break it?"

Jeff stopped and thought.

"No. No, I didn't. I went in when I heard the crash."

"Well - perhaps he didn't."

Jeff considered this as if it had never crossed his mind.

"But Alan said he did. I asked them and Alan said Gordon did it."

"Didn't you think that Alan could be lying?"

Jeff was silent. Then he asked,

"What exactly did Gordon say to you?"

Virgil took a deep breath.

"He said that he and Alan were in the living room. Alan wanted to play but he didn't as he was reading. Alan snatched his book from him and ran off and he fell into the cabinet and the vase fell off and broke. Then you came in and Alan said Gordon did it."

"Why didn't the boy say so?"

"Because you wouldn't have believed him."

"WHAT?"

"Because you never listen to him."

Jeff frowned. "What on Earth do you mean?"

"It's true, Dad!" Virgil felt the same anger rising in him as it had on the riverbank but he was determined to speak up for Gordon even if it meant he, Virgil, would be punished. "Gordon was really crying. He said that you didn't love him, you never listened to him, you never believed him, you always favoured Alan and that he wished Mommy hadn't died because she loved him. He said he was never coming home again unless you talked to him...I'm sorry, Dad." Virgil finally ran out of words. "But I think Gordon's right. You are unfair to him."

Virgil looked straight up. He fully expected to get a hearty cuff for his lack of respect. However, his father said nothing. He looked serious - and, was it ashamed? Finally, Jeff said, lamely,

"Alan is the youngest."

"Dad, Gordon's only a year older! He needs you too! It's always Alan whom you take notice of, Alan who sits on your lap, Alan you let do things. Gordon feels pushed out."

"Well - why doesn't the boy say anything?"

"Because he's too shy and too quiet. He's more like John. But John's older and more sure of himself."

Jeff digested all this. Maybe Virgil was right. It was possible...

He rose.

"I guess there's only one way to find out."

Jeff went upstairs to Gordon and Alan's room. The door was open and he could see Alan with his back to him, sitting on the bed playing with his toy soldiers. It suddenly struck Jeff as odd that Alan hadn't come down to help in the search for Gordon.

Jeff knocked and went in.

"Alan?"

Alan jumped. Some of the toy soldiers fell down. He turned round. "Oh...hello, Daddy."

"I want a word with you. I've got something I need to ask you." He sat on the bed next to Alan and looked directly at him.

"Who broke Mommy's vase?"

Alan's face changed instantly.

"Answer me. Who broke Mommy's vase?"

Alan looked down. In a small voice, he replied,

"I did."

So, Virgil had been right. Jeff digested this for a moment, realising its implications. Then, he addressed Alan sternly.

"Did you know Gordon's run away?"

Alan said nothing. He hung his head.

Jeff glared hard.

"Stay here. I will deal with you later."

Without another word, the father left the room. Alan was alone.

**Chapter 6 : Repercussions**

Virgil was sitting at the dining-room table, drawing in his sketch-book. A shadow appeared in the doorway. He looked up.

"You were right, Virgil," was all Jeff said.

Neither spoke a moment; then Virgil volunteered,

"Shall we go and tell Gordon?"

"Yes..." Jeff breathed in heavily. He was not relishing the task. He was beginning to realise what a terrible wrong he had inflicted on his fourth son and the feeling was not pleasant.

The car pulled up in the parking lot beside the riverbank. Jeff switched off the engine and applied the handbrake. He lay back in his seat. He felt very tired and very despondent.

In the distance, they could see Gordon, sitting on one of the swings in the playground. Virgil could see his father looked helpless and he felt sorry for him.

"All right, son," Jeff replied, in resignation.

From the car window, Jeff watched Virgil as he walked along the riverbank, towards the swings. He saw Virgil call Gordon and Gordon's eager face as he noticed his older brother. He watched as Gordon ran towards Virgil and into his arms for a hug. He saw Virgil sit Gordon down, put his arm around him and talk to him reassuringly. He watched as the two boys stood up, Virgil holding Gordon's hand, and disappeared into the woods. He saw them reemerge, Virgil carrying Gordon's rucksack, Gordon clutching Virgil's hand with one of his and his teddy in the other, and make their way across the grass, to where the car was parked.

As a father, he should have listened to Gordon and given him a fair hearing. Instead, he had let him down. Virgil had succeeded where he had failed.

Still, he could try to put it right.As his two sons approached, he climbed out of the car. He walked towards Gordon, smiling warmly, and held out his hand. "Hello, son."

Gordon's reaction shocked him. The little boy shrank against Virgil, his eyes full of fear. Virgil put his arm around him and held him close.

"It's okay, Dad," Virgil said, rather awkwardly. "Let's get home. Come on, Gordon - you sit in the back with me."

Hurt beyond measure, Jeff could only watch as the boys climbed into the back seat. Automatically, he climbed back into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. Numb, he started the engine. In the rear view mirror, he could see Gordon snuggled up against Virgil and the two boys smiling at each other.

Jeff Tracy bit his lower lip very hard.

Alan sat by the window of his bedroom. He had watched as Virgil and their father had brought Gordon back into the house. He felt very, very ashamed of himself. For being so silly and breaking his mother's vase in the first place - but, worse, for blaming Gordon and making him so upset that he had run off. If only he had owned up straight away.

He heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. He knew they belonged to his father. Stupidly, he hid under the bed. Of course, he knew he was only delaying what was coming.

The bedroom door opened and Jeff walked in. He shut the door firmly behind him. There was silence a moment; then, Alan heard footsteps coming towards him.

"Come out from under there!"

Apprehensively, Alan crawled out from under the bed. He stood up to see his father's angry face looking down on him.

"You are a very, very naughty boy."

**Chapter 7 : Repentance**

Virgil was in the dining-room, doing his piano practice. He looked up as his father came into the room from upstairs.

Virgil hesitated; then asked tentatively,

"What happened with Alan?"

Jeff frowned. "I gave him a good hiding and sent him to bed. I hope he's learned his lesson." He hesitated, then asked,

"Do you know where Alan is?"

"He's in our room, playing chess with John," answered Virgil. He saw his father's apprehensive face. "Are you going to talk to him?"

Jeff nodded. "Yes. I must."

He walked slowly upstairs and came to a halt outside the door of the bedroom which John and Virgil shared. He paused, steeling himself for the difficult task which lay ahead.

The door was open. He looked round and saw John and Gordon deep into their game of chess. He knocked and went in.

"Hello, boys." Jeff crossed the floor. "How's it going?"

John was the family chess expert. However, he said,

"Gordon's learning quickly. He's going to be really good."

"I can see!" Jeff sat down on the bed and cast his eyes over the chessboard. Then he looked up at his second son. "John - " he inclined his head. "I think Virgil wants to see you - "

John understood his father's meaning. "Sure thing, Dad." he rose form the bed and went out.

At the sound of the shutting door, Gordon's demeanour changed. Hurriedly, he started to pack up the chess pieces as faat as he could. Some of them slid on to the floor. Panic-stricken, Gordon scrabbled to pick them up. He stuffed them into the box and forced the lid shut. Jeff was disturbed to notice how frightened of him the boy seemed. "Gordon - " He reached out. Gordon clutched the chessboard and the box of pieces to him and shrank back against the headboard. His brown eyes were filled with fear. Poor boy, he's terrified, thought Jeff. And it's my fault.

"Gordon - " he said again, this time more gently. "Son - " Gordon seemed to relax a little. "It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you."

Gordon's tight grip on the chessboard and pieces eased. The fear in his eyes slowly began to die down. Tentatively, Jeff reached out again. He laid a hand on his son's shoulder and made him look at him.

"Gordon, I know now that you didn't break Mommy's vase. Virgil told me." He took a deep breath. "I'm - very sorry for not believing you - and for hurting you. And - I'm sorry for the times when I haven't always listened to you the way a father should."

For a moment, Gordon said nothing. Then, he whispered,

"I thought you loved Alan more than me."

Jeff bit his lip. How it must have seemed that way to the boy.

"No - I don't," he said, earnestly. "I know it must seem like that sometimes - but, truly, I don't."

Gordon still didn't look convinced. Jeff was at a loss what to say - then it came to him.

"Gordon," he began. "How would you like to choose the book for story-time tonight - and sit on my lap to read it?"

Gordon small face lit up. Then, it drooped again.

"Alan always does."

"Alan won't be coming tonight," Jeff answered firmly. "I gave him a hiding and sent him to bed."

Gordon raised his face again. This time, he was really smiling andhis brown eyes were sparkling.

"Yes, please, Daddy!"

So, at half past seven, Scott, John, Virgil and Gordon sat in the living-room, waiting for their father to come and read to them. Gordon, in his pyjamas and dressing-gown, sat on the floor eagerly, a book in one hand and holding Virgil's hand with the other.

Jeff came in at that moment. "Good evening, boys."

"Good evening, Dad!"

Jeff sat down. He paused, then said,

"Well - I don't think I need to ask you very much about what you've done today. I think we all know about each other! If no-one's anything else to add - shall we say our nice things?" Lucille had always got the boys to say one nice thing about each other before they went to bed, and Jeff had been determined that this should continue.

"Gordon asked me very politely when he borrowed the book for story-time," said Scott, anxiuos for his young brother to feel included.

"Scott helped me with my homework!" declared John.

"John didn't switch on his reading-lamp too early this morning," Virgil commented. John stuck out his tongue at his brother!

"Virgil was very kind to me," Gordon said simply, smiling fondly at him.

Jeff smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. Now - Gordon's chosen the story tonight. Gordon?"

Gordon stood up and held out his book. Jeff smiled when he saw it. "I should have guessed!" He opened his arm to Gordon. The little boy clambered happily on to his father's lap and nestled against him.

The book was one a series the boys owned. The books had been written over one hundred years ago yet were still popular with children. Had people really once travelled like that? thought Jeff.

Jeff opened the book on to the front page.

" 'This is the story of Gordon the Big Engine.' "

" '...Next day, the Queen spoke specially to Thomas, who fetched her coaches, and to Edward and gordon who took her away; and no engines ever felt prouder than Thomas, and Edward, and Gordon the Big Engine.' "

The story was ended. Jeff smiled down at Gordon, hoping he had liked it. But, there was no answer. Gordon was sound asleep, his copper heaad resting gently on his father's shoulder. Jeff looked at his fourth son, then at the three elder. "I think mI'd better take him to bed. I'll come back and say prayers." He handed the book to Scott. "Virgil?"

Jeff lifted his sleeping son in his arms. Gordon didn't even stir. Jeff carried Gordon upstairs to his bedroom which he shared with Alan. Virgil walked ahead of them to open the doors and, once, in the room, he folded back the bed covers. Jeff laid his sleeping son gently into the bed. between them, they managed to take poff Gordon's dressing gown. Jeff lifted the covers up over the little boy and tucked him in. Virgil hung up Gordon's dressing gown on the hook on the back of the door.

Jeff gazed down at his fourth son. Gordon was lying on his back, his head turned slightly to one side, sleeping peacefully. All of a sudden, Jeff was reminded of the very first time he had seen Gordon, just after he had been born, in the cradle by his wife's bedside.

Jeff bent over, put his hand lightly on Gordon's copper hair and kissed him gently.

Jeff and Virgil stood together at the door, watching the sleeping form of Gordon. Jeff put his arm around Virgil.

"Thank-you."

Virgil looked up at his father. "For what?"

"For listening."

On the bed opposite, still but awake, facing the wall, lay Alan, a very ashamed look on his face.

One hour later, Jeff returned to check on Gordon. he ahd left the bedroom door ajar and pushed it open gently. gordon was still sleeping peacefully, unaware he was there. Jeff was relieved.

He was just about to go out again when a very small voice said,

"Daddy."

For a moment, Jeff thought it was Gordon and he had awoken. But then, he realised it cam from the other bed.

He walked and stood over it. Alan was awake and looking up at him nervously.

"What do you want?" Jeff asked sternly.

"I wanted to talk to you," Alan whispered.

"What about?"

Alan didn't answer.

"Well, I don't know if I want to talk to you," continued Jeff. He sat down on the middle of the bed. "I don't think you've been a very good boy today."

Alan was shaking his head. "I didn't mean to - "

"I daresay you didn't. But you didn't think. And see what a lot of damage you did! You told a lie, you made me hurt Gordon for no reason and then you made him run away."

"I know," Alan whispered. Tears were trickling down his face.

"I don't like having to smack any of you. I don't like huurting you. But you really deserved it."

Alan started to cry properly. "I'm sorry, Daddy. Truly I am." He covered his face with his hands and cried harder.

Seeing his youngest son so distraught, Jeff's anger began to fade. Alan could be very naughty - but, he always knew when he had done wrong and was always truly sorry. Distressed, Alan started to cough. Jeff put one hand on the boy's chest and the other on the back of his neck, to steady him. He gave Alan his handkerchief. "Dry your eyes, son, and give your nose a blow." Alan did and was soon calmer. "You did wrong today - but I think you've learned your lesson." Alan nodded. "Now - tell me what you must do tomorrow."

"Say sorry to Gordon - and try to make it up to him."

(As, in fact, he did the next day when, not realising his father was watching, Alan said sorry to Gordon and offered him his racing car to play with for the day).

Jeff nodded. "Good boy. Now - you settle down and try to go to sleep." Alan went to - but then he stopped.

"Daddy."

"Yes?"

"Do you still love me?"

Seeing his son was asking seriously, Jeff sat back on the bed. He put him arm around Alan's shoulders and stroked his face with the back of his hand.

"Yes, of course I do," he said, gently reassuring.

He pulled the covers up and Alan snuggled down. "Sleep tight," Jeff whispered, and patted him reassuringly.

The father stood in the doorway of the bedroom a moment or two, looking at the heads of his two youngest sons, one copper and one blond, in their beds; then, reassured, he closed the door softly.

Jeff Tracy let out a big. big sigh.

Slowly, he descended the stairs into the kitchen. Scott and John were seated at the table, doing their homework. Jeff watched his two eldest sons working intently.

At that moment, John raised his head. He glanced over at Scott's work and something seemed to catch his eye.

"You've got the left side of that equation wrong there, look," John observed, indicating with his pencil.

Scott lifted his head.

"Where?"

John pointed the pencil on the book. "It should be 3y, not 2y."

"Oh, yes. Thanks." Scott rubbed out the number and changed it.

Jeff marvelled. How on Earth could John have noticed that so quickly - and reading upside-down?!

Scott looked up at that moment and saw their father watching them.

"What is it, Dad?"

Scott, tall and stocky, with his black hair and dark blue eyes, John, slighter, with his white-blond hair, pale blue eyes and owlish glasses, seemed to exemplify what was in Jeff's mind.

"I was just thinking, how incredible it is that I've got five sons who are all so completely different."

Scott and John exchanged glances. Then, John said,

"Well - as you often say, Dad - it'd be no good if we were all the same."

Jefferson Tracy gave a weary chuckle.


End file.
